


raise a cup

by wandasmaximoffs



Series: 12 days of exr 2017 [6]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: 12 days of exr, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Courf And Ferre’s End Of Term Discotheque Extravaganza, Drinking, M/M, day six: spiked eggnog, holiday parties, winter fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 00:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12995403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wandasmaximoffs/pseuds/wandasmaximoffs
Summary: “Oh, really?” Grantaire raises an eyebrow, and tries to keep himself from laughing. “You can’t get drunk off of eggnog? Courf’s eggnog? The eggnog that, every year, Courfeyrac makes a huge deal of spiking with a disgusting amount of bourbon?Thateggnog?”“Okay.” He says, seriously, “Mayhaps, good sir, I amslightly,onlyslightly,very drunk. Butyou,good sir, gentleman, arevery pretty.So whomst is the real winner here, hm?”





	raise a cup

Anyone would agree that the best thing about December isn’t the finishing of end of term exams, or the snow, or even the holidays--

The best thing about December is, most definitely, Courfeyrac and Combeferre’s holiday party, affectionately named _Courf And Ferre’s_ _End Of Term Discotheque Extravaganza._

Well. It sure is, if  _ anyone  _ is  _ Grantaire. _

The prospect of drinking, dancing, and relaxing with his friends certainly outweighs whatever it is that’s lurking for him at home-- His father ready to sneer slurs or who knows what at him, most probably.

  
(He’s not going home for the holidays.)

  
He is, however, having a  _ great  _ time. The party is in full swing, everyone piled into Courfeyrac’s apartment, ready to celebrate the end of the term and the end of exams-- At least until the summer.

Grantaire is leaning against a wall, watching his friends make an obscene amount of noise over Marius’ turn on  _ Dance Dance Revolution!  _ He’s trying his best to be festive and merry and whatever else it is he’s supposed to be, but alas.

Everyone else is drinking, and rightly so, but he promised himself before he arrived that he was going to limit himself to two beers; Jehan even made him drink tickets, of which he has already spent, and is now both regretting this decision and trying his best to remind himself that it really is for the best.

He’s still having this internal argument with himself when he’s almost knocked off his feet by a stumbling Enjolras.

  
“Whoa, hey,” Grantaire catches him before he can do any more damage, straightening them both up as much as he’s able. His boyfriend isn’t having it, though, and instead of standing up  _ straight,  _ just wilts in his arms.

“You’re so strong, R,” He sighs, when Grantaire catches him  _ again  _ and starts carrying him to the couch. “You’re like a knight. No, that’s  _ so  _ stereotypically masculine. Who am I to say that only knights can be strong? You’re a princess. Princesses are strong too. Fuck knights.”

Grantaire laughs, and sets him down gently on Courf’s kind of disgusting couch. He and Combeferre found it on a sidewalk in their first year, and just decided to keep it; the crocheted blankets sent by Combeferre’s grandma and draped over it help immensely, but he still shudders to think what’s beneath them.  
  


“Are you a little drunk, E?”    


_ “No,”  _ Enjolras pouts, and frankly, it’s adorable. “You  _ cannot  _ get drunk off eggnog. ‘S _ impossible.” _

“Oh, really?” Grantaire raises an eyebrow, and tries to keep himself from laughing. “You can’t get drunk off of eggnog? Courf’s eggnog? The eggnog that, every year, Courfeyrac makes a huge deal of spiking with a disgusting amount of bourbon?  _ That  _ eggnog?”

“Okay.” He says, seriously, “Mayhaps, good sir, I am  _ slightly,  _ only  _ slightly,  _ very drunk. But  _ you,  _ good sir, gentleman, are  _ very pretty.  _ So whomst is the real winner here, hm?”

Grantaire can’t hold back his laughter anymore, his boyfriend reverting to chivalrous speech and spouting absolute  _ nonsense _ when drunk putting him over the edge. “Here, scooch over,” He says, and drops down besides him on the sofa.

Enjolras obliges, and moves aside enough to accommodate him; as soon as Grantaire’s settled, he drops his head into his lap and reaches up to pat his cheek.

“A gentleman and a scholar and a princess. That’s you. But you’re a democratically elected princess. Okay?”

“Okay, but--”

“And you’re not trash! You always say  _ ‘Oh I’m Grantaire and I’m a trashcan and I hate shirts’  _ but you’re not! You’re my boyfriend. And I love you. And I’d drop a pizza facedown on the sidewalk and then eat it just to prove how much I love you. Because you’re not trash! You’re a princess!”

He’s pouting again, brows furrowed in his attempt to get his drunken point across. Grantaire gently touches the divot there, and Enjolras immediately relaxes. He knows Enjolras turns into a kind of skewed-truth-fountain when he’s drunk, but he hadn’t known that his self-deprecating tendencies bothered him so much.  
  


( But then, it can’t be easy to hear the man you love constantly talk about how he is, in fact, a trashcan. )

He wants to think over this some more, but Enjolras interrupts him with another hand on his face. “And I know it’s not your fault! So don’t be sad! ‘Cause now you look sad! I love you! And I know you’re not trash! And I can tell you that when you think you are! So it’s okay. Don’t be sad, princess.”

His rambling is slowly moving into mumble-territory, which Grantaire recognises to be one of the final stages of Drunk Enjolras-- Falling asleep wherever he happens to be standing. Or, in this case, laying. 

“Did he just call you  _ princess? _ ” Feuilly’s amused tone comes from behind him, and he ruffles his hair affectionately as he walks by.  


“Not just any princess, I’m a  _ democratically elected princess,  _ according to this one.” Grantaire lowers his voice, trying not to wake Enjolras up; his eyes have fallen closed, and his breathing evened out. 

Feuilly laughs softly, and goes on to join the others, crowded around the TV. Marius has expended his turn on DDR, and now Courfeyrac is drunkenly stomping on the mat, completely out of time with the music. It really is a sight to behold. Enjolras snores slightly in his lap, completely undisturbed by the raucous noise from a  _ very  _ inebriated Bahorel, who is attempting to duet with Combeferre to the electronic-pop music of the game.

  
_ Yeah,  _ Grantaire thinks, smiling,  _ This is the best thing about December. _

**Author's Note:**

> day six! todays theme was spiked eggnog and tbh enjolras is all of us. as always u can find me on tumblr @ patroclols and the prompts are from the usual source!! hope yall enjoyed, thanks for reading <33
> 
> [Support Me on Ko-fi](https://ko-fi.com/S6S5IQU1)


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